The fallen flaming leaf
Waits for the snow in vain,
Hopes to cool the burning wreath
That leaves its heart in pain
Before the winds of decay
Silence passion’s ecstasy.
O leaf, whose drops of fire
Point their fingers at the sky,
Whose vibrant sinews seek the ire
Trapped in eyes that blink, but do not cry:
What passing cloud, what swirling star,
Can return your lover from afar?
I am the leaf. I am the flame.
And I am the snow
That makes anonymous my name.
Yet only the true lover knows
That time heals not wounds
Else the sanguine sinews cease to swoon.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
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